The Man Behind the Means
by Cklurean
Summary: A story of Fenris from beginning to end as well as filling in some gaps you might have been curious about. Rate M for eventual naughty and horrid bits.


The Man Behind the Means

_A/N This is my first fanfic ever. So be nice. :D_

In the beginning

The elf that lay in a heap at his feet gurgled helplessly with his dying breath. He stood there, towering over the massacred corpse. Crimson rivulets streamed down the steel honed edge of his blade and dripped onto the dirt trodden ground as a cascade of cheers erupted from around the ring. The elf's body marred with deep gashes and ugly bruises, his armor dented and mangled beyond repair. He gazed upon the crowd of the elite and glanced back only once as the corpse was hurried off by his brethren. His fellow brothers in slavery.

A man dressed in fine silken robes the color violet, his greyed hair neatly coiffed and small dignified smirk upon his features made his way down the aisle to the center of the ring where Leto stood abashed but triumphant. The magister turned to the crowd and lifted Leto's free hand high into the air and shouted with magic laced into his vocals, "Here is our champion!" The crowd erupted once more and Leto's cheeks flushed. Danarius turned to the lad and dropped his hand. Leto knelt to the floor face flush against the dirt.

Danarius motioned for him to rise and so Leto lifted himself to a kneel, his eyes kept upon the floor. "You have won the competition, and are awarded a boon." Leto fought the urge to gracelessly kiss his master's boot and merely nodded. "What boon would you ask for?"

Leto cleared his throat, his tongue dry and thick from battle. "I wish to have my mother and sister freed."

Danarius sighed audibly and tapped his chin. "Very well. I will make the arrangements, you my boy will return to your quarters till I summon you." Leto's heart soared for years he has thought of nothing else, wishing to free his family from the bondage of their master. When he would gaze upon his mother's eyes he would see the anger and sadness of captivity. He vowed to make it right, and he did.

Leto nodded, "Yes, my master." He lifted himself, but not his gaze as he hurried out of the ring and into the lower halls of the mansion. Rough stone lined the walls and floors of the slaves and servants quarters of the mansion. Though crudely made, the halls were clean and well-tended, a pride the servants still managed to keep hold of. He hurried to the halls and into the sleeping quarters, there he found a woman with long copper hair curled in a tight braid and woman, only slightly older than himself huddled upon a single cot, anxiously awaiting. He smiled brightly as he wiped his hand upon his jerkin and dropped his sword to the floor with a resonating clang of steel on stone.

They jumped at the sound and the eldest of the women looked and beamed with relief as she ran to Leto holding onto him tightly and praising the Maker for his save return, she pulled back only momentarily, tears stinging her eyes as she looked him over thoroughly, her hands combed through his mahogany hair asking an unvoiced question. "I won, Mother. I won the competition!" Worry lined his mother's brow but her lips smiled happily. "He gave me a boon for winning, you and Varania are freed." His smiled never wavered as he held his mother and sister close.

"But what of you, brother?" his sister asked hopefully.

Leto shook his head slightly against his mother's hair, "It doesn't matter any longer. As long as you are free, I can hope for no more."

The night passed with celebration and sorrow. Leto pulled the tasteless ale bladder from beneath his cot and laughed boisterously among family and friends of his and their victory. They laughed and cried well into the night and when morning came he watched happily as his sister and mother left the magister's gate for the last time. They carried little, as slaves do not own much if anything at all. They turned back with a wave passing over the steps.

Leto turned away and found his master descending the long marble staircase; he gazed upon his new pet with an admiring eye. Leto was a fine specimen, his taut corded muscles twitched with each movement as the elf knelt before his master, his sight upon the long ivory carpet that trailed the length of the grand foyer. Danarius stood before Leto and endearingly placed his hand upon the lad's head. "Come, my dear. We have much to discuss you and I." He turned and made his way through the foyer. Leto quickly gathered to his feet and hurriedly followed his master to his large study.

The room was elegantly decorated with satin curtains that gathered along the floor in deep red waves. They wood was stained to a dark chocolate that shined in the low candle light. Danarius leaned against the solid wood desk folding his arms across his chest. His gaze once again fell onto the elf and his physique a slow malicious smile crept along his lips. "You did well, my child. You fought magnificently, a fine warrior indeed."

"Thank you, master." Leto replied, not daring to glance upon his master's face.

"I need a strong lad such as yourself. This is why I held the competition in the first place." Leto's gaze flickered to Danarius as he walked around his desk. He leaned his delicate hands along the edge of his desk and looked along the contents upon the wooden surface. "I need a warrior who is able to endure, able to sustain the power I am about to give him. A warrior's stamina if you will."

Leto blinked, not believing his ears. "Master?"

Danarius smirked slyly. "Tomorrow you will become the most powerful warrior Minrathous has ever witnessed." The magister straightened and waved his hand, dismissed. Leto climbed to his feet and hastily bowed making his way from his master's study and out into the hall. She silently shut the door behind him and leaned against the door. His hands shook and he stuffed them beneath the folds of his arms to still their restlessness.

The day was waning and he made his way to his quarters, other elves, finished with their duties were settling in for the evening, he flopped upon his cot and rubbed his still shaking hands along his face. _What had he gotten himself into?_

He laid back and gazed along the cracks in the ceiling. A cold draft fluttered his hair danced pleasantly along his warm skin. He sighed resigning himself and turned onto his side to find solace in the dreaming world, though sleep didn't come for hours. He tossed and turned through the night unable to seek reprieve from his family gone. Just before night became dawn, he moved to look out the roughly carved stone window and see the sunrise, "A new day, at last."


End file.
